Read Ebook: Grandfather's Love Pie by Gaines Miriam

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Ebook has 187 lines and 14780 words, and 4 pages

After a moment she continued, "I wonder if we couldn't get hold of one of those hat-boxes which are made to hold the enormous 'creations' we see every day in the milliners' shops, and on the heads of so many pretty girls. We can make the effort, anyhow, and if we don't succeed in finding just what we want, needles and cardboard are plentiful and we can make a box to suit ourselves, for it must be at least twenty-five or thirty inches in diameter and six inches high to hold the filling."

They walked slowly homeward, discussing various little points which occurred to them along the way, until, when Alice walked back into the front door of her home, what was her surprise and delight to feel that the weight of the sorrow, which had so oppressed her, was lightened. She felt almost buoyant in her eagerness for Christmas to come.

And now a busy season began. It was hard to think of anything suitable for the invalid, for had not the loving hands of his wife and children provided everything that might add to the comfort of the beloved head of the household?

There was one little feature that had been overlooked, however--grandfather possessed no foot-warmers. So Alsie's energies were at once set to work on these articles, which were destined to be "real comforts" in the weeks which followed Christmas.

The story of grandfather's pie was soon spread, not only through the family, but also to a large circle of friends. Everybody was cautioned, however, to keep the secret from Mrs. Gordon, for it was decreed that the faithful little "wifey" should share the surprise and pleasure with her husband.

"Mr. Doctor, what are you going to put in the Christmas pie?" exclaimed Alice merrily one morning, after telling the physician of the plan.

"I think I'll contribute the turkey," he answered with a smile. "A turkey, of course, which won't take up too much space, and the dressing I'll put in that turkey will be calculated to make any sick man well. Do you understand?"

Alice didn't quite understand, but was willing to leave the matter in his hands.

Little Jack was quite worried that he could think of nothing to make grandfather laugh, and one day when he was in the sick-chamber he blurted out, "Grandfather, what would you rather have me give you for Christmas than anything else?"

The laugh came then--before time--for it explained to grandfather the uneasy, doubtful expression which had enveloped the little lad's face just previous to the asking of the question.

"Well, I'll tell you, Jack, what would please me more than anything else--a perfect report from your teacher. If you could bring me this, on Christmas Day, I would know that it meant hard work for a boy, who is as fond of play and mischief as you."

Aunt Bettie was considerably beyond sixty, but not many young "niggers" could get around as lively as she, and no one, who had ever dined in that household, could doubt her ability to cook the best meal ever brought to a table.

"Nevah you min', honey--Aunt Bettie'll have somethin' fur de occasion--it's a shame dat doctah won't let Captain Gordon hab no pie nor nuthin', but makes him eat jest dem beat biscuits, when he likes de soft ones so much de best. I'll be ready, chile, on de day 'fore Christmas, so don' you worry yourse'f 'bout me."

"But you mus'n't make him anything that is bad for him, Aunt Bettie. He can't eat the plum pudding, and other rich goodies like the rest of us, you know, because he is too ill and the doctor won't allow it," answered Alsie anxiously.

Such conversations were being held every day, and the days were passing, too, with astonishing rapidity, just as they always do when one is deeply interested in some absorbing project.

Aunt Alice had been receiving, daily, numerous letters--several containing checks--and little Alsie's correspondence had suddenly grown to enormous proportions.

"I think I know of several plums that will be forthcoming if that's your idea, sis--it's a capital one, too," answered Dick. "I confess I'm getting quite interested in the contents myself, and two or three times I've come near asking about the progress of the pie, before mother, forgetting that she's to share in the great surprise."

"Wasn't it dear of him, Dick, and who but father would have thought of making a joke of something, which might seem to some, only a trying duty?"

"It just shows us again the sort of manly man father has always been; but Alice, I had an idea that it would be a nice thing to take that little poem father wrote to mother last Christmas--the one he presented with his gift--and have an illuminated copy made of it for mother's gift this Christmas. It pleased her so much at the time, and, in this form, it could be framed prettily and hung over her bed. You remember the lines--I have them in my pocket now."

He unfolded the sheet of paper, and handed it to Alice, who read aloud:

MY BEST CHRISTMAS GIFT.

Some two score years, and more ago, A father gave his child away: It was a Christmas gift, you know, Because 'twas done on Christmas Day.

That little maid was given to me; I took her then for weal or woe. The years have passed so happily It does not seem so long ago.

No other gift in any year Has e'er excelled, or equaled this; The others evanescent were While this has shed perennial bliss.

For it has multiplied with time And added blessings, year by year; She came to me in youthful prime And still remains, though in the sere.

Her children, and their children, too, In number, just about a score,-- I count, as blessings, to her due: May God repeat His gift once more.

My little wifey, always dear, When Christmas comes, I think back then And greet you with increasing cheer, My Christmas Gift, returned again.

"It's a beautiful idea, Dick, but it won't do now. There's too much pathos in it for this occasion. When I read the lines myself, I am blinded with tears, for I realize all too keenly that we may not have him another Christmas. Some time, it may be a great comfort to mother to have it. Keep the idea in mind and work it out some day."

So the little poem was folded up and laid away for another year.

Several days passed and grandfather seemed to improve. The spirit of Christmas pervaded everything, and even the invalid playfully asked Alsie if she could give him a hint as to what he might find in his sock on the eventful morning. Uncle Dick had been instructed to bring home all the Santa Claus posters that might be found in the newspaper office or bookshop, and there was already quite a stack of colored pictures on hand, showing Santa Claus in every stage of his wonderful yearly trip round the earth. Both Alices had spent some time selecting the little white Santa and sleigh for the top of the pie. The reindeer were hitched, tandem style, to the sleigh, harnessed and reined with the gayest red ribbon.

One morning, several days before Christmas, Mrs. Gordon came out of the sick-chamber, to the breakfast table, with a beaming face, saying:

"Captain Gordon spent the best night he has had in months, and he feels so bright and well that he wants to be brought into the library and rest awhile on the couch there."

What joy this announcement brought to them all! The rolling chair was drawn forth, and little Alsie led the way from one room to another with feet that fairly danced.

No ill effects followed the experiment, and it was repeated the next day with even greater success. It really appeared that some of the most persistent features of Captain Gordon's illness were yielding, perhaps, to the treatment--at any rate, the beloved invalid was better, and the leaden weight of apprehension, which had so burdened the hearts of each one of them, was disappearing and a wonderful joy was taking its place.

A white-winged, invisible guest had arrived, before time, to spend the Christmastide with them. It was the Angel of Hope, sent by the pitying hand of the Father in Heaven, and with it came peace, joy, love, and merriment.

What a host of Christmas cards came in, on the morning mail, just preceding Christmas Day. Little Alsie was almost wild to begin work on the pie. After breakfast, Aunt Alice said calmly, "Alsie, come with me, for I have an important errand, and would like to have company."

They wended their way to Alice's room, and locked the door. Going to the closet, Alice brought forth the largest round hat-box that any of them had ever seen. It must have been two feet or more in diameter, but it was only seven or eight inches high.

The Christmas paper was next brought out, and what a wonderful variety there was--Santa Claus, in all phases of his yearly trip, was pictured on some rolls, while festoons of holly and ribbon were outlined against a background of white on others.

After considerable discussion and comparing of effects, it was finally decided that the outside crust of the pie should be of white paper, decorated in holly and ribbon, so the needles and pastepot were both used in preparing the lower portion of the box. The top was treated in an entirely different fashion. It was covered over with the whitest of white cotton batting, and the glistening little sleigh was securely fastened to the center of the top. Fragments of the cotton fell over the edges, and when Alice sprinkled over this, the "diamond dust," it looked as if real icicles were dropping from a bank of glistening snow.

"Auntee, it's the prettiest thing I've ever seen!" exclaimed Alsie enthusiastically, after the lining had been neatly pasted in.

Then began the work of fixing up the packages to fill the pie. Aunt Bettie's contribution was unique--a beaten-biscuit gentleman, some twelve inches tall, who was certainly most "fearfully and wonderfully" made. The eyes, which had been so carefully put in with a fork, were a little too close together, and the dough nose, which had been so anxiously applied, had risen unduly in the baking, to the great detriment of the biscuit gentleman's appearance. The mouth was all right, however--big and smiling. His legs looked very much like he had a bad case of locomotor ataxia, but the buttons on his coat were quite regular and his arms hung at his sides like ramrods.

After careful inspection which occasioned considerable laughter, the beaten-biscuit man was rolled up in tissue paper and placed in a Christmas box "just his size." On the card was this message: "The Bible says, 'Love your enemies'--here is an enemy for you to conquer," for it was a well-known fact that grandfather found it hard to overcome his dislike of the "hardtack," as he denominated the beaten biscuit prepared for him.

The doctor's turkey was next inspected--a nice little brown roasted fowl in appearance, but in reality one of the cunning little pasteboard devices that Alsie had so often seen in the confectioners' shops. There was plenty of stuffing too, for Dr. Emerson had filled it full of pills and capsules. There were pink pills and blue pills and green pills and lavender pills, and hidden among them was the prescription, with one end sticking out of the opening. It read: "For Captain Gordon--Pills of every color, size, and variety, warranted to cure every known pain or ache--to be taken with your Christmas pie." The little turkey was carefully wrapped in tissue paper and garnished with a spray of holly.

Next came the tiny basket of fresh eggs from the merry little next-door neighbor, whose big, fine chickens had been coaxed to lay a dozen eggs for the Christmas pie. The basket would not hold the dozen--O no! for its greatest capacity was four; but the remaining eight were set away in a safe corner of the pantry. The four eggs were laid in a perfect nest of red and white tissue paper, and holly and ribbon were twined round the edges and handle of the basket. On the card was written the following bit of rhyme:

"We shall have to get help, Alsie--just look at the books to be put in, and half the presents sent by the children must be wrapped and tied up, for you know every single thing must have a ribbon attached, by which it is to be pulled out of the pie."

So Alsie was cautiously sent out to get her cousin Emily, the oldest granddaughter in the family, a quiet young girl of fourteen, who was exceedingly fond of reading.

"For goodness sake, let's get the books all in the pie before Emily gets here, Auntee, for she will want to read a little out of each one to see what it is like, and we'll get no help from her," exclaimed Alsie.

Aunt Alice laughed, and replied, "Well, we must get through this work somehow, for Uncle Dick is coming out early this afternoon with the cedar, holly, and mistletoe, and will help us decorate the library. Speaking of cedar, let me show you what dear Aunt Cecile has sent in her Christmas box, besides the gifts."

Taking off the top, Alice lifted out a huge bunch of beautiful galax leaves and another of the daintiest sprays of evergreen.

"Just a suggestion of the bracing mountain air which you are to enjoy with me as soon as you are well enough to travel," was the message that came with it, for Aunt Cecile lived far away in a mountain climate, and was deeply disappointed at not being able to spend this holiday season at home, as she had intended. All sorts of curiously shaped packages were taken out and laid aside for the various members of the household, but the largest share was to go in the pie. Tiny Bess had made a big shaving-ball at kindergarten, and this was sent to grandfather with a Christmas greeting. Bobby's contribution was a highly decorated three-layer blotter with grandfather's name and address in red ink on the top layer. It was not a thing of beauty, being the work of his own clumsy little hands, but he felt sure it would be appreciated, for he had heard grandfather wish so often that "somebody" wouldn't take away the blotters from his desk.

"We'll put the message in with the lemon, Alsie, and that will make it both funny and kind." So the tiny specimen was done up in a dainty box and on the large card was written: "The groceryman offered his choice stock of figs, dates, confections, and fruits for Captain Gordon's Christmas pie, but found nothing acceptable but a small-sized lemon, which he presents with the hope that it will furnish all the tartness necessary."

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